


i wish i could be there

by vanimiel



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Gen, HEADCANON AHOY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:56:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanimiel/pseuds/vanimiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Worrying over him is all I do these days. It's not like I've got much better to do, though, being a ghost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i wish i could be there

He did it again. Got shot, I mean.

I sigh. It’s always nerve-wracking. I get anxious every time it happens, even thought he always comes back. It just seems like there’s a chance that… he won’t. It’s stupid, I know, but I’m supposed to worry. It’s my job. It’s not like anyone else is there to do it, either.

Speaking of which, the room is now empty. They think him dead, I thought as a taunt. Idiotas.

Presently, he’s on the ground. Bleeding, but not for long, if this follows the pattern it should. But just in case…

I hover downward, near his head, crossing my legs— not that it really matters. His head is to the side, which is fortunate, because heads are heavy and I don’t think I have the energy to move it, not yet. I might ask Mikhail about it later.

I gather his hair, smoothing it, pulling it into a simple ponytail. Like I used to wear. I smile.

“You’re still here.”

I smile more.

He speaks to me, sometimes, when he’s dead. He can’t when he’s alive, and he never remembers me completely; just as a vague, distant memory. So I enjoy it while it lasts.

“So are you,” I reply, tying off his hair with a tie I make sure he has on him. “You shouldn’t be so careless. Immortality is no excuse for recklessness.”

I grin inwardly at the irony. He laughs.

“I am as careful as I need to be, Conscience.”

Conscience. He still thinks that. My smile is sad, now.

“Whatever you say. I just… want you to have a nice death.”

There’s a pause, and at first I don’t think the reply reached him.

“So do I.”

He rises, and I move out of the way, even though there’s no need to. He fingers at his hair, confused, because he doesn’t remember tying it up and doesn’t know anyone who could have. I lean in, close to his ear, and whisper; “Ignatie, I just want you to look nice when you die, Ignatie.”

Twice, because it makes him whip his head around the room, looking for the source of that breathy, quiet voice that he’s not even sure he heard.

Twice, because it reminds me of all the times I didn’t get a chance to say it.

Twice, because he hears me better when I use his name.

**Author's Note:**

> My headcanon given name for The Fear is Inácio; Ignatie is the Romanian version of it.


End file.
